


Johnlock Oneshots

by beatofmywings



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Parentlock, but then who doesnt, john cant, oneshots, rosiewatson, sherlock can sing, sherlock secretly loves la la land
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 08:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatofmywings/pseuds/beatofmywings
Summary: Hello! So this is where I'll be posting the fics that I can't be bothered to continue and the ones that work really well as one shots, or just little ideas I come up with whenever I'm feeling inspired... who knows what'll happen.I'll put a description of what happens before each one and the appropriate warnings as this is rated mature so know what to expect :)Hope you enjoy and if you have any idea pls leave a comment cause I need inspiration and you guys are better story writers than me lmao*fades into distance as Sherlock theme plays*





	1. Power Cut

**Author's Note:**

> There's something bothering Sherlock and John sets out to find out what. FLUFF and a lil angst.
> 
> Warnings: none :)

Sherlock had been in his mind palace for almost 3 hours and frankly John was sick of the silence. The electricity was out and all he had to keep himself busy was the stupid newspaper and a wireless radio that only had 2 stations. He didn't so much mind the 80's one, but the classical one made him want to jump out the window. His laptop had died mid way through typing up the Great Game blog and he was almost certain it didn't save which meant he'd have to type the whole thing out again. Typical. 

Looking over at Sherlock lying on the sofa with his palms pressed together beneath his chin he wondered what he was thinking about. It wasn't unusual for Sherlock to just disappear into his head recently, after they had returned from the pool he hadn't spoken for days. John had been warned by him that it would happen the very first conversation they had, but it didn't mean he wasn't hurt by the silence. Right now he was just about done with Sherlock ignoring him, so he stood up and walked over to the sofa. Sensing someone watching him Sherlock cracked his eyes open, glaring up at John with accusing eyes.

"What do you want?" Sherlock asked in his deep voice. John frowned thinking about what to say, his temper flaring in annoyance. 

"I want you to stop pretending I don't exist, it's been almost a month since the incident and you've barely said a word." John said, sighing when Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

"I specifically told you I wouldn't talk for days on end when we first agreed to live together, don't tell me I'm not quite living up to your expectation now that you're feeling lonely. It's not my fault you can't seem to keep a woman." Sherlock retorted spitefully. John stared at him for a moment, knowing Sherlock was purposely trying to hurt him so he would leave. He wouldn't allow it to work this time.

"No, don't do that. You and I both know you're being unreasonable." John stated, watching Sherlock frown deeply.

"I'm always unreasonable, I thought you would have caught on to that by now, or perhaps I overestimated your abilities in deduction." Sherlock replied, looking grumpy. John suspected something was bothering him, he only ever got defensive when he was upset.

"What's wrong?" John asked, trying his hardest to be sincere and not annoyed.

"Wrong? Nothing, I'm perfectly fine." Sherlock said evenly.

"Doesn't seem that way, you haven't taken a single case in a month."

"Nothing's worth my time unless it's higher than a seven, so far the highest has been a four." 

"That's not the point." John stated.

"Then what exactly is the point John, you're wasting my time." Sherlock said, glaring daggers.

"You're upset aren't you. Something that happened at the pool upset you." John deduced, praying he was right otherwise he'd just be making a fool of himself in front of Sherlock. As suspected the consulting detective stood up quickly and stepped over the table, storming over to his seat and throwing himself down dramatically in the chair. John followed him and sat down in his armchair, meeting sherlocks eyes.

"You can talk to me you know, I'm your friend." John started, but Sherlock cut him off.

"I don't need you to play therapist for me John, as I already informed you I am fine, now leave me alone." Sherlock grumbled, crossing his legs and staring at the wall. 

"You clearly aren't fine and I'm not leaving until you tell me what's bothering you." John argued, set on getting through to Sherlock. He cared about him, more than he probably would like to admit to, and it bothered him seeing him distressed. 

"Why does it matter to you how I feel?" Sherlock snapped. John gave him the look that he usually got from Sherlock, the one that spoke dont-be-stupid-you-know-why. 9 times out of 10 John honestly had no idea what Sherlock was on about, but he was certain the man understood him on this occasion. 

"We're friends, and friends care about each other. Maybe one day you'll actually try and make it look like you care about me too." John huffed. Sherlock looked genuinely hurt by John's comment and John felt slightly guilty.

"I do care about you." He said, his voice no longer holding anger.

"Well it sure as hell doesn't seem like it. I'm trying to help you Sherlock, at least act like you care." John replied, slightly touched that Sherlock cared about him but refusing to show it. Sherlock studied him for a moment then sighed and curled up into his chair, resting his head on his knees. 

"Fine, I'm not okay." Sherlock said begrudgingly, and John tried not to smile at his little victory.

"What's on your mind?" John asked, finally getting somewhere. 

"I have to explain myself too? Wasn't that enough?" Sherlock asked, sulking.

"Sherlock..." John warned.

"Alright alright. Moriarty said something at the pool that he shouldn't have know, couldn't have possibly known. And now that he's said it I can't stop thinking about it." Sherlock admitted, sinking further in his chair.

"What did he say? It all sounded like a load of rubbish to me." John thought out loud, trying to recall exactly what Moriarty had said. 

"I can't tell you." Sherlock said quietly, looking away at the fire and watching the flames dance.

"Why not?"

"Because you won't like it and I'd rather you didn't move out already, I was hoping you'd put up with me for at least a year." Sherlock replied evenly, meeting John's eyes again.

"Sherlock, whatever it is Moriarty said Im not going to move out, I like it here and a sentence isn't going to change that." John said honestly, giving Sherlock a reassuring smile. 

"I also don't think I can physically tell you." Sherlock said frowning, but still staring at John with his penetrating blue eyes. 

"Why not?" John questioned, actually growing worried now. 

"I just can't. I don't think I'll be able to handle loosing my only ever friend." 

"Sherlock." John said, collecting his thoughts together.

"I'm not going anywhere. Whatever it is you tell me I won't get angry or leave, we'll talk about it like adults and then move on with our lives. It's not healthy to keep things pent up, eventually you'll snap and no offence but neither of us have fun when that happens. I don't care what it is as long as you're okay after, alright?" John said carefully, judging sherlocks expression. He was stoic as usual, but John thought he saw a flash of doubt cross his eyes. 

"Promise?" Sherlock said quietly, searching John's eyes for any sign of regret.

"Promise." John stated, waiting anxiously for Sherlock to explain. Said man sighed and joined his hands together under his chin, staring at John but not really paying attention to him. 

"Moriarty wanted to kill me, obviously. But he didn't want to do it at that very moment, even though he could have just made the call and no one would have ever known what happened. Instead he said... he said he wanted to burn me." Sherlock stared, zoning back in for a moment to check John was following. 

"I remember that. Didn't he say he wanted to, what was is... burn the heart out of you?" John asked, recalling the way Moriarty had growled the words.

"Yes. At the time I was under the illusion that I didn't have one, but he proved me wrong. And now that I know he's aware of my situation I don't know how to keep it safe." Sherlock admitted reluctantly, calculating John's expression. 

"So you mean... you don't know how to keep your heart from being broken?" John asked confused, trying to work his head around what Sherlock actually meant. Sherlock just stared at him, watching the cogs turning in John's brain.

"Wait no..." John muttered, frowning deeply. Moriarty knowing Sherlock could feel wouldn't put him in danger, it would just confirm that Sherlock was in fact human. But how would Moriarty break his heart? They'd only met once and the idea of something between them made John just want to snort, so that was out of the question. So what then? 

Perhaps there was someone Sherlock wanted to protect, that made more sense if he thought about it enough. But Sherlock didn't truly care about other people, he didn't care who he upset or how rude he was or how many lives he ruined as long as the case was good. Would Sherlock really risk his life to protect someone?

It seemed highly unlikely but it was the only reason that made sense. From what John had seen Moriarty was the dramatic type, (something he and Sherlock had in common), so saying he would burn his heart Fit the puzzle. So Sherlock had someone he wanted to protect... and Moriarty knew about them. Perhaps it was a lover, that's where the heart usually comes into play and Moriarty's words had been pretty specific. But that was insane, Sherlock was 'married to his work' as he'd so kindly put it, so who could possibly change his mind?

"Watching you think is driving me insane." Sherlock said from the chair, snapping John back to the present. 

"Well if you didn't talk in riddles all the time you wouldn't have to watch me think." John said in return and Sherlocks lips turned upwards slightly. 

"It wasn't a riddle, I thought it was rather obvious." Sherlock replied, watching John with a guarded expression.

"Yeah, clear as day." John said sarcastically, earning himself a glare.

"Okay, so correct me if I'm wrong-" John began...

"I already do that anyway." 

"-but there's someone you want to protect right? Maybe a friend, or even a lover, but someone Moriarty knows about, that's why he said he'd burn your heart out because he knew who to go after." John stated. Sherlock observed him for a moment before leaning back in his chair, stretching his legs out so they almost brushed John's knee. He tried not to notice.

"Well done John, your deduction skills are improving." Sherlock said, but he wasn't smiling anymore. He looked sad behind his carefully constructed mask, almost afraid.

"So I was right about all of it?" John asked, surprised and slightly proud of himself despite the situation. 

"Well you did give multiple choice so technically you weren't 100% accurate, but for an amateur..." 

"Okay okay, what did I get wrong?" John asked before he got insulted. 

"You said friend or lover, which one do you think?" Sherlock asked in return, still not having looked away.

"I know you well enough to not expect either so I honestly don't know, how about you help me out instead?" John suggested, hoping Sherlock would just give him a straight answer but being thoroughly disappointed. 

"Depends who you ask." He replied instead, eliciting a sigh from John.

"What does that even mean?" 

"You asked whether they were a friend or lover, so my response is it depends who you ask." Sherlock repeated, looking exasperated with John's slowness. 

"So if I asked Greg..." Sherlock frowned in confusion so John amended:

"...Lestrade if they were a friend or lover what would he say?" John asked, trying to figure out who this mystery person was. He can't of met them so it must be someone from Sherlocks past, and Greg has known Sherlock since he was in his 20s. 

"Friend. Although he'd also most likely make a crude joke about the lovers part too." Sherlock added as an after thought. 

"Sherlock can't you just tell me, my head hurts from trying to figure this out." John asked hopefully.

"It's more fun watching you figure it out." Sherlock responded, smiling ever so slightly. John glared at him, when did this turn into a guessing game?  He sighed in defeat, wracking his brain for people Sherlock knew before him. 

"Molly, what would she say?" 

"Friend." Sherlock said immediately, but John knew why. She's had a thing for Sherlock for as long as John's known her.

"Alright... Mycroft?" 

"Friend, but he'd raise his eyebrows in the way that makes me want to swing at him" Sherlock said is disgust. 

"So what I'm getting at is it's a friend that some people seem to think are lovers." John stated, glad when Sherlock nodded. He had a funny feeling in his stomach once he said this out loud.

"What about you, what would you say?" John asked, watching Sherlock carefully. The detective froze, obviously not expecting John to ask for his point of view. There were a few awkward seconds where Sherlock just sat there frozen until he finally composed himself. 

"Friend..." He said softly, looking away, but John could tell there was something bothering him about the word. 

"But you prefer the word lovers." John stated, and Sherlock snapped his head back. 

"What gives you that idea?" He asked, his expression neutral once more. John had never known how expressive Sherlock could be until he watched him pull 10 different ones in the space of half an hour. 

"You may think you're good at hiding your emotions but I'm pretty good at reading between the lines." 

"That's news to me." Sherlock replied, getting defensive again and John knew he was right. 

"So you want this friend of yours to be a lover?" John confirmed, and after a few moments Sherlock nodded reluctantly.

"I've got to admit when I asked if you were okay I wasn't expecting this." John chucked awkwardly but instantly regretted it when Sherlock looked regretful, his shoulders tensing.

"I don't mean it like that! I'm glad we're talking and everything, it's just not something I thought I'd ever talk about with you." John amended and Sherlock relaxed ever so slightly. 

"Do I know this person?" John asked, attempting to narrow it down even slightly. Sherlock smiled but it didn't reach his eyes, as if he were hearing a really bad joke.

"Quite well I'd hope." 

"Okay..." Now he was stuck, having hit a dead end. If he didn't known the person it would have been easier as it meant it was someone from Sherlocks past, but if he knew them well then who could it possibly be? 

"You're out of ideas." Sherlock stated, sounding glad. Clearly he never had the intention of telling him in the first place, but John wasn't giving up that easily, there were still people he could ask about.

"Mrs Hudson?" John asked, forgetting they had changed the subject from earlier. Sherlock looked at him with disgust and opened his mouth to share his opinion on the matter but John quickly corrected himself. 

"I mean what would she think, friend or lover?" Sherlock briefly looked relieved but then the emotion disappeared entirely, as if it had never existed.

"Lover." He said flatly, and that was the grand conclusion. Sherlock had little to no friends and the people at Scotland Yard were out of the question. He had shown his feelings towards Molly very clearly and there was no one left to sort through, no one apart from one person. John recalled what Mrs Hudson had said the very first day he went to look at 221B to consider moving in.

"There's another bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing it..." 

John's heart thudded in his chest as he tried to take in the possibility. Sherlock never corrected anyone, not even once. It seemed ridiculous, impossible even, yet there was no one else to sort through. Sherlock was still watching him but now his expression was clear as day, afraid and vulnerable and looking as if he was ready to jump out the window. Sherlock had figured out John had reached an answer, and now he was frozen in his chair waiting for John to say something.

Suddenly the month of silence made sense, suddenly Sherlock stopping him from going on his dates made sense. Suddenly Sherlock moping around when John brought home another girlfriend made sense. Suddenly the 'accidental touches' and the prolonged eye contact made sense. Everything suddenly came into clear focus and the leg now brushing his own became painfully obvious, as if it was purposely placed there to remind him. John didn't know what to say or what do do, but his first thought was to comfort Sherlock, who still looked downright terrified. 

"She was always our biggest fan." John said, trying to break the tension that had filled up every corner of the room. It didn't work. Sherlock stared at him, unresponsive to the comment. John tried a different approach. 

"Sherlock." John said, trying to put all the words he didn't know how to say into that single word alone.

"I meant what I said. I don't care what it is as long as you're okay." Sherlock blinked and looked down at his leg which was resting against John's. 

"You don't have to say that." He finally muttered, refusing to make eye contact even though he'd been non stop staring at him for the past 10 minutes. 

"What do you mean?" John asked for the second time that evening. Usually Sherlock would complain at having to repeat himself but he didn't even seem to notice.

"You don't have to pretend this is okay. I know it's not what you were expecting and you can get angry, I don't mind." Sherlock whispered the last bit. 

"Look at me." John said softly, unsure of why he wanted to see Sherlocks eyes but asking anyway. Immediately Sherlock looked up and when John found them swimming with tears his heart broke. 

John wanted to comfort him but before he even had the chance Sherlock flew out his chair and was in his bedroom before John had even left his seat. Immediately John followed him, knowing what Sherlock was capable of when he was distraught. He knocked on the door and the shuffling inside stopped.

"Sherlock come on, we said we'd talk about this like adults and I'm not angry at you, please." He said softly, leaning his head against the door. The detective didn't answer but he thought he heard a muffled sniffle. 

"I know you can hear me and I know you're upset but please let me in... Sherlock please." John said, resorting to begging just so he could make sure Sherlock was okay. There was no answer, so John decided just to wait. 

"Please Sherlock, for me... open the door." John tried, and suddenly the lock clicked but the door didn't open. John knew Sherlock was standing right behind it, probably weighing the pros and cons of pulling it open. John lifted his head off the door in case it did, instead resting his hand against it. John waited, wondering if he had to ask again but not wanting to distract Sherlocks thought process. But before he decided he had better say something the door slowly opened. There stood Sherlock, tears dripping down his cheeks and clearly in a lot of distress. His dressing down hung limply off his shoulders and his hair was a fluffy mess. John didn't know what to say, and now he thought about it he probably should have come up with something but it was too late now.

"How about I make us some tea?" John suggested the only thing he could think of to break the silence. Sherlock nodded slightly and followed John silently into the kitchen. He stood to the side as John put the kettle on boil and got out their favourite mugs, putting two teabags in each before getting out the sugar. He glanced a look at Sherlock who was staring right back at him, but quickly looked away when their eyes met. Sherlock wasn't one for bowing down to something as feeble as eye contact. 

The kettle finished boiling and he poured the hot water in, finished making the tea then motioned for Sherlock to come sit back down in the armchairs. Once they were seated John carefully placed his cup down on the unstable coffee table, then passed Sherlocks over. John noticed Sherlocks hand shaking as he took it and a lump formed in his throat. 

"I wanted you to run at the pool." John said, thinking they may as well go back to the beginning and slowly work their way forward. Sherlock looked at a point just above John's eyes.

"I know." His voice was surprisingly even for someone who still had tears slipping down their cheeks.

"You could have escaped before they even realised what was happening. But you didn't." 

"I couldn't leave you." Sherlock said quietly, meeting John's eyes at last. 

"And I couldn't let you die." John replied, wondering how he'd move the conversation onto the bigger picture.

"Why?" 

"Because I care about you a hell of a lot more than I should." John answered honestly, smiling slightly. 

"I thought I knew everything John. I thought I could read every person and predict what they were all thinking in a heartbeat. But when it comes to you I don't even know what I'm thinking, I don't know what to think anymore." Sherlock confessed, fiddling with the cuff of his dressing gown. 

"Don't think about it. Just answer one question for me." John suggested, and after a moments hesitation Sherlock nodded.

"What did you feel when you knew Moriarty knew?" He asked, curious to know the answer himself but also knowing it was important for Sherlock to understand.

"I... I don't know. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that he hadn't hurt you. All other thoughts were sort of clouded, I was just focused on getting you out alive, nothing else really mattered. And when he came back saying he was going to kill us anyway I realised I couldn't lose you, not now and not ever." Sherlock admitted quietly, and John leant forward in his chair.

"What about after, when we got back to the flat? John said, not really sure what he was trying to get out of Sherlock but asking anyway. Sherlock looked panicked but answered anyway. 

"I thought about what he said, about how he's going to burn out my heart. I realised what he meant because there's ever only been one person I've wanted to give it to." Sherlock whispered, looking away from John again. John processed his words for a moment and realised how happy it actually made him to hear Sherlock say that. It was one thing figuring it out, but something entirely different hearing him admit it. 

"I don't deserve your heart." John said before he thought about what he even meant. But even after they were out there he didn't regret them, they were true.

"Yes. You deserve much better." 

"No, its scientifically proven you're out of my league." John said smiling slightly, enjoying the look of shock on Sherlock's face.

"There's no scientific evidence saying I'm too good for you John, if anything it's the other way around." Sherlock replied slowly, confused as to why John was suddenly smiling.

"Well lets just suppose for a moment we are good for each other, what would you say then?" John questioned, his heart rate speeding up at where the conversation was heading. 

"I- I wouldn't... I don't... what do you mean?" Sherlock stuttered, asking the question that had been rolling through John's head all night. 

"The mystery person. Friend or lover?" John said, for once putting Sherlock at a loss for words. There was silence in the flat. 

"I have a choice?" Sherlock finally asked, and John nodded.

"I-I already told you." He chocked out, his hair falling over his eyes.

"You said friend, but it's not what you meant." John reminded him, afraid he was stepping into dangerous territory but pushing further anyway.

 

"I don't know what I meant." Sherlock said, forever guarding his heart. John didn't know what to do, and Sherlock looked so out of his depth, so he opted for what normal friends would do if the other was upset. John stood up and looked at Sherlock expectantly, who just stared back at him blankly.

"Do you want a hug or not?" John asked and immediately Sherlock stood out the chair, wrapping his arms around johns back and resting his head on his good shoulder, something only Sherlock would remember. John wrapped his arms around Sherlocks waist, resting his head in his neck and breathing deeply. Sherlocks body shook slightly as a fresh wave of tears overcame him and John pulled him closer. If someone had told him he'd be the one comforting Sherlock after said man just admitted to loving him then he'd laugh in their face,  and probably rant to Sherlock about it after. But now he was here he never wanted to let go. He knew what he wanted. 

Once Sherlock had calmed down he pulled away slightly, keeping one hand on Sherlocks waist and using the other to wipe away his tears. 

"Do you want to know what I chose?" John said quietly, leaving his hand on Sherlocks cheek.

"Friend or lover?" Sherlock asked, but John knew he already knew the answer, even someone as inexperienced as him could read the signs.

"Lover." John stated without hesitation, sure of what he wanted now that he knew there was a possibility it could happen. At first the smile on Sherlocks face was small, but then it spread bigger and bigger until he was beaming with happiness. If John was afraid for even a second he'd get rejected that fear disappeared in a millisecond. 

"I have one more question before I shut up." John stated, smiling too. 

"Haven't you tortured me enough today?" Sherlock asked, his voice soft but still raspy from crying.

"Perhaps, but can I kiss you?" John asked nervously, unsure whether or not that was a good idea.

"Yes." Sherlock breathed.

"You'll have to come down here then." John requested, and Sherlock chuckled slightly before leaning down so their faces were mere centimetres apart. 

"Better?" He whispered, his breathing blowing against johns lips.

"Much." John whispered back, before slowly leaning in and pressing his lips against Sherlocks. They were soft and warm against his own and he softly kissed him, relieved when Sherlock timidly returned the kiss. His stomach was doing back flips but he ignored it, concentrating on moving his mouth as gently as possible. When he pulled away Sherlock followed him, their lips only disconnected for a second before Sherlock joined them again. John made a little noise of surprise but kissed him back, being less careful this time yet still gentle. He slid his tongue along sherlocks bottom lip and Sherlock breathed sharply through his noise but didn't pull away, instead pressed a little harder. Johns hand stroked sherlocks cheek softly, and sherlocks hand had somehow found it's way to the bottom of johns neck. Eventually they both pulled away from each other and John observed sherlocks expression, which seemed both equally surprised and happy.

"Was that okay?" John asked softly.

"I dont have any other data to base it off, but in my opinion that was more than okay." Sherlock replied, noticing the little look of surprise that crossed johns features.

"I can't believe I don't even know this but Sherlock... How old are you?" 

"Shouldn't you buy me dinner before asking a question like that?" Sherlock said smiling, and John couldn't help but smile at the clever idiot.

"Well we've already kissed so I don't think it really counts anymore." 

"In that case, I'm 33."

"So how in the world do you have no data to base that off of when you've got people chasing you everywhere?" 

"I've never paid anyone any attention until now." Sherlock said truthfully, his face reddening ever so slightly. 

"Do you even know how old I am?" John asked, slightly embarrassed he was almost 5 years older than him. 

"No but I know you're older, not that it matters anyway."

"Well I'm 37, just so you know for future reference." John admitted, curious as to why Sherlock smiled at the information. 

"Oh dear, I can already see the grey hairs." He teased, obviously noting his discomfort. 

"Hey, weren't you ever taught to respect your elders?" John replied, more than happy at how the mood in the room had changed from depressing to elated in just under 10 minutes. 

"Perhaps I should take you to dinner to apologise?" Sherlock said smoothly, but there was still a hint of awkwardness proving how nervous he really was. 

"Perhaps you should, are you hungry?" 

"Starving." 

And that word was all it took for John to lean up and kiss him again.


	2. Make her proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John comes home to find Sherlock sat on the floor with some heartbreaking news and John tries to make him feel better.
> 
> Warnings: mentions of death, otherwise just very fluffy :)

"Sherlock? Hello? Are you alright?" John asked concerned as he walked into 221B to find his husband sitting on the floor staring at the wall with their marriage certificate on. He flinched suddenly when he noticed John crouched besides him, clearly not having heard him walk through the door or anything he'd said up until now. 

"John?" He asked, unsure of what he was feeling but knowing it wasn't pleasant. 

"You okay love?" John asked, frowning at the lost look on Sherlocks face. Sherlock considered the question before shaking his head, certain whatever this emotion was it hurt, badly. John sat down in front of him and took his hand, linking their fingers together and rubbing circles to try and ease the tension out of Sherlocks spine. 

"What's the matter?" John said softly, searching Sherlocks face for a clue. 

"Mycroft called. My mother passed away last night." Sherlock whispered, fear and sorrow now evident in his expression. John frowned immediately and pulled Sherlock in for a hug, wrapping his arms firmly around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. Sherlock snuggled up against him, burying his face in his neck and breathing deeply. 

"I'm so sorry." John whispered, drawing a pattern on Sherlocks back as he knew it calmed him down. 

"Why are you sorry?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"You shouldn't have to go through this so young, it's not fair." John replied, pressing a soothing kiss to sherlocks neck. He melted into the touch and hugged John tighter, his fingers gripping his jumper as if his life depended on it. 

"I'm not that young." Sherlock responded, his voice sounding weak.

"Young enough." John reasoned, pressing closer to Sherlock still. After a few comfortable minutes of silence he suddenly felt a wetness on his shoulder and realised Sherlock was crying. At first they were little tears, but they soon turned into sobs that shook his body and hurt John just as much. 

"Shh it's okay, I'm here. I've got you." John whispered, trying to calm the flow of tears now soaking through his jumper. He rubbed his back and pulled Sherlock completely into his lap, allowing him to wrap his legs around his waist and bury his sobs in his neck. 

"She's gone." Sherlock forced out between the tears, leaning back slightly to stare panicked into John's eyes. 

'I know, but it's going to be alright." John soothed. Sherlock leant back down and buried his face in John's neck again, another loud sob ripping out his throat. 

"Shhhh love, I'm here." John whispered over and over again, eventually getting through as Sherlocks tears subsided and he loosened his iron grip on his jumper. John threaded his fingers into Sherlocks hair and played with the curls, something John had learnt made Sherlock sleepy. They sat there for what seemed to be forever as Sherlocks tears dried on his face and John whispered words of comfort every now and then. 

"How about we go and curl up in bed instead? You'll hurt your back if you sit here all day Bear." John said, using the pet name he reserved for Sherlock during moments like this. Sherlock nodded slightly and untangled himself, wiping his eyes on his sleeve as more tears started falling. John took his hand and pulled them both up, pausing to wipe a tear dripping down Sherlocks jaw away then leading him towards their bedroom. They climbed into bed after stripping down to their boxers and John pulled the cover over them both, entwining his legs with Sherlocks and allowing himself to be pulled closer. Sherlock allowed no space between them, his head resting on johns chest and their hands still joined beneath him. With his free hand John continued to play with Sherlocks hair, curling the black strands around his fingertips.

"I got your jumper wet." Sherlock mumbled, his voice gravelly from crying.

"Doesn't matter, you're more important." John whispered, squeezing his hand for emphasis. Sherlock smiled ever so slightly and rubbed his foot along johns leg, warming them both up. 

"She wore jumpers all the time too." Sherlock said quietly, not needing to elaborate for John to know who he's referring to. 

"You and her were very similar." John replied softly, closing his eyes.

"I got my intellect from her, she is-was incredibly smart." Sherlock said, correcting himself mid sentence and frowning deeply.

"I never thanked her." Sherlock whispered, more tears slipping out his eyes.

"For what Bear?" John asked.

"For- for telling me to stop bring such a coward and live my life, for t-telling me to come out to you and then... l-later on telling me to do it again. For telling me how proud she was that I'd found you." Sherlock chocked, his voice breaking half way through. Tears welled in Johns eyes too as he remembered the look of pride on her face as Sherlock walked down the aisle last year. 

"She knew. Even if you didn't tell her she knew how thankful you were, she could read us both like a book." John said softly, letting go of Sherlocks hand to wipe his tears away. He nodded slightly and kissed johns neck.

"She loved you so much, even though you had your differences there was a bond you couldn't break. I'm so thankful to her for helping us see what was right in front of us, without her we'd probably still be skipping round each other like idiots."

"She loved you too. She always thought we were perfect for each other." Sherlock whispered, a small smile on his lips.

"I couldn't image spending my life with anyone but you." 

"Thank you my love ." Sherlock whispered softly, reconnecting their hands. John knew he meant it when Sherlock used a pet name, something he claimed to despise but secretly loved. 

"How about we go to sleep, then we can decide what do tomorrow." John suggested.

"Hmm." Sherlock agreed, probably tired out from crying.

"Love you bear." John yawned, closing his eyes once more and drifting quickly off to sleep. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was a small,

"I love you too John." From his broken yet beautiful soul mate.


	3. Phenylethylamine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John perform a study in the form of a staring contest designed to make you fall in love. But does it actually work? Set after season 4 but without Mary/Rosie.
> 
> WARNINGS: Slight mention of war wounds, subtle talk of suicide, but mostly just a whole lotta eye contact ^-^

They were sitting in a cab returning back to Baker Street after a successful day of solving cases Scotland Yard had left unsolved, unable to cope with the pressure when Sherlock had disappeared for 2 years. Everything was good, great even, and John couldn't wait to just get home and have a cup of tea by the fire. Sherlock for once wasn't staring out the window, instead watching John with a blank look on his face. John assumed he was being deduced, although he wasn't sure what Sherlock could exactly be looking for when they spent every hour of every day together anyway. John had quit his job at the doctors surgery and soon after left his girlfriend Mary when he realised having a normal life with Sherlock around just couldn't happen. Besides it wasn't like they needed the money, it just seemed to 'appear' in the bank account they shared once a month anyway.

Since Sherlock had come back things were different between them, they just seemed to appreciate each other a lot more. Even Sherlock, who usually didn't care about sentimental acts or kind words, had been a lot nicer towards him and made it his job to make sure John was always okay. It was strange hearing Sherlock ask if he'd eaten lunch that day or if they needed more milk, but it didn't mean he didn't appreciate it any less. They had even become physically closer, resting their legs on each others laps in the evenings or absentmindedly brushing shoulders when walking past. Today at the office they had been standing so close that their hands had brushed, something John had awkwardly noticed but realised it didn't bother him at all. It wasn't like they hadn't help hands before, although being dragged across London in handcuffs as a runaway 'hostage' wasn't exactly how many people envisioned the situation. Sherlock hadn't seemed to notice at all, too busy listening to Lestrades briefing before excitedly taking the folder away from him and blabbering on about the circumference of Mr Bakers garden table affecting how many times his son was slammed onto it.

John could still feel sherlocks gaze burning into the side of his head and turned to meet his eyes, thinking if he caught him staring he'd look away. But he didn't. John found himself stuck in an involuntary staring match in which neither intended to loose, determined to beat Sherlock instead of the other way around for once. His bright blue eyes bore into his, seeing things no one else saw and somehow appearing like he was reading johns every thought just by looking at him. John raised his eyebrows and Sherlock smirked slightly, still refusing to look away and instead shifting so he was ever so slightly closer. John didn't really understand what was happening or why he'd allowed Sherlock to trap him with his eyes in the first place, but there was no way he was going to look away when he had sherlocks undivided attention. It made him feel special when he knew Sherlock was only thinking about him, as if being able to capture the great mind of Sherlock Holmes was a prize worth boasting about, so he enjoyed the moment while it lasted.

It didn't last for long though because he heard a loud cough from the drivers seat and realised they were stopped in front of 221B and the taxi driver was watching them expectantly, an amused expression on his face. John begrudgingly looked away and smiled awkwardly at the cabbie, handing over a tenner before climbing out the cab. Sherlock followed and stood beside him as the taxi drove away, looking down at him with a smug smile. They never spoke about their little competitions but they were both aware of their existence, and for once John decided to address the look of victory on his best friends face instead of pretending it wasn't there.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything." Sherlock replied innocently, walking towards the front door and unlocking it.

"You didn't need to." John replied, hanging his coat up on a peg once he was hidden from the bitter cold of London. Sherlock didn't reply, instead disappearing up the stairs whilst John quickly said hi to Mrs Hudson. When he eventually walked into their flat he was surprised when Sherlock suddenly appeared before him, a glint in his eyes he usually reserved for the most intriguing cases.

"Phenylethylamine." Sherlock stated, watching John intently.

"Sorry what?"

"Phenylethylamine, a chemical formed when looking someone directly in the eyes." He elaborated, as if this somehow explained everything.

"And what does this chemical do?" John asked, smiling slightly because this is the Sherlock he had missed whilst he was away. The one who got excited over fancy chemicals and miscellaneous body parts and little deductions, things other people found fustrating but John found endearing.

"We'll have to wait and see." Sherlock answered, not really answering the question at all but doing it in his own Sherlock way. John just shrugged and walked past him to close the curtains as night was already falling even though it was only quarter to five. Sherlock walked over to the sofa and flopped down, having changed into his pyjamas and beige dressing gown whilst John was downstairs.

"Budge up." John said, nudging Sherlocks legs so he could sit down. Sherlock only moved them briefly whist John got comfy before placing them down on his lap, knowing John didn't mind the intimate gesture anyway. John picked up today's newspaper and skimmed over the front page, nothing interesting catching his eye so instead picking a random page and beginning to read. Sherlock had closed his eyes, probably to visit his mind palace, and had rested his hands beneath his chin in what looked like prayer. They stayed like that for quite awhile, neither of them acknowledging the others presence but still knowing they were there, the fact that they were besides eachother was enough. At one point Sherlock twisted onto his side, his cold feet pushing underneath johns leg to steal his warmth. Sherlock was always cold and it had just become something John associated with his friend, another trait on the long list of things he noticed about him that others didn't.

Eventually Sherlock cracked his eyes open and resumed his earlier task of staring at John, something the doctor had long since grown accustomed to and barely even noticed. It was only when Sherlock stood up only to sit back down directly next to him that John questioned what he was up to. He glanced to the side and was met with the piercing eyes of Sherlock Holmes closer to his face than he expected.

"What?" John asked in amusement, curious as to why Sherlock was suddenly so interested in what he was doing.

"Why are you always reading the paper when it's so mindnumbingly boring?"

"Well it changes everyday you see." John replied, earning himself a glare. Sherlock plucked the newspaper out his hand and turned his back to him, resting against johns side as he began to read. Johns arm was trapped beneath Sherlock awkwardly but he was afraid to move it in case the detective moved away, not allowing himself to consider why he liked Sherlock laying on him but letting himself enjoy it anyway.

"Who really cares about how many children Beyoncé is having? It would only matter if she mysteriously died and gave me an interesting case to solve." Sherlock muttered, licking his finger and turning the page over. John chucked and wondered to himself if anyone in their right mind would allow Sherlock to do a post-mortem on Beyoncé. Sherlock continued skipping through the pages, only spending 5 seconds on each before declaring it boring.

"Oh look, we're in the paper John." Sherlock stated as if it were a daily occurrence, going to turn the page over without even reading it.

"What does it say?" John asked, slightly worried about what the media had possibly come up with when nothing important had really happened.

"Detective Sherlock Holmes and partner John Watson are back solving crimes after a 2 year absense, however fans suspect it's not the only thing they've returned to doing together. Many are wondering what happens behind the closed doors of their flat in Baker Street, and whether or not their relationship goes further than just friendship. It is said they've been sighted around London looking more than happy with each others company and hardly ever seem to have anyone else joining them, suggesting a more intimate involvement with each other. Are the Baker Street duo strictly professional or is something else happening inside their personal life? Go to www.johnlock.co.uk to read the opinions of their fans." Sherlock read, commenting something unimportant about bad word structure at the end. John found he wasn't as upset as he would have been 2 years ago, however it did annoying him that people were just so nosy. So what if they went out alone? So what if they enjoyed each others company? It didn't mean they were together just because they lived in the same apartment or went out to dinner.

"They even have a website, people really do have no better way to spend their time." John commented, stifling a yawn mid-sentence.

"It doesn't bother you?" Sherlock asked, sounding slightly surprised.

"It bothers me that people are so nosy, but it's just an article written by someone trying to promote their website. Why should I care what it says?" John replied, saying it to himself as much as to Sherlock.

"If I'd heard you say that when we first met I probably would have fainted."

"You always were a drama queen, still are actually." John said, finally moving his arm now that it had actually gone numb. Sherlock didn't move away, instead just rested his head back down more comfortably and allowing John to rest his arm on his shoulder. They were basically cuddling now with Sherlock leaning against johns chest and John with his arm around him, but both were comfy and neither wanted to move. Sherlocks curls were tickling his chin, they smelt like coconut shampoo and hairspray and something that was just Sherlock. Said man continued to flick through the newspaper but quickly reached the end, throwing it to the floor and stretching his legs so far they hung off the end of the sofa.

"There was a study conducted in 1989 assuring that simple eye contact could make a person fall in love with you. In this study two opposite sex strangers were asked to gaze into each other's eyes for two minutes, which in some cases was enough to produce passionate feelings for each other. Eye contact is a powerful stimulator of love and affection, when you look someone directly in the eyes, their body produces a chemical called phenylethylamine that may make the person feel in love. If you want to make someone fall in love with you, one of the first thing you should do is to look into their eyes." Sherlock stated as if he were reading from a website without reason, but John understood why when he mentioned the chemical. He was surprised for a whole minute before deciding to just accept it as one of sherlocks quirks, choosing to wait and listen to Sherlock explain himself before thinking about it too hard.

"Have you been counting?" John asked, and as always Sherlock understood what he meant.

"6 minutes and 37 seconds." He answered, meaning they'd had more than triple the amount of constant eye contact needed to 'fall in love.' John was surprised at the answer, not realising he'd really stared at Sherlock that long without even looking away.

"Really? Never seems like that long, I bet I won." John thought out loud, enjoying the deep chuckle from the man laying beneath him.

"No, it was in the taxi earlier." Sherlock clarified, meaning he had won as they'd been interrupted by the cabbie.

"That's cheating, I was distracted. It won't work if one of us gets distracted." John argued, knowing what he'd just said was admitting to a whole new possibility.

"The study said 2 minutes." Sherlock replied.

"But we aren't strangers." John counteracted.

"So what do you suggest?"

"A rematch."

"I don't think that's how it works John."

"It'll be fun!"

"I sincerely doubt that."

"Oh come on, don't you want to fall in love with me?" John teased, poking Sherlock with his free hand. He didn't know why exactly he wanted to have a staring match with Sherlock anyway, perhaps it was because he was a sore loser or perhaps he just wanted to see what happened.

"How could I resist that temptation." Sherlock said sarcastically but moving so he could see johns eyes anyway. He chose to lay on johns lap so he was staring up at him, a decision the older man was not expecting but appreciated nonetheless. A small part of his brain smiled at how cuddly Sherlock was today, they had been physically close before but never like this.

"Comfy?" John asked, looking down at the man in his lap.

"Considerably."

"So how do we start?"

"We already have." Sherlock stated, which was true as John had sought out his friends eyes as soon as he could see them. Now that he knew they'd started he was nervous and unable to explain why. Sherlocks eyes were beautiful really, sparkling blue mixed with emerald green and a hint of gold in the centre. But it was the way he looked at him that always encaptured his attention, as if he were the most interesting subject in the world. For someone who saw as much as Sherlock did being interesting to him was something John considered an achievement.

"What are the rules?" John asked, noticing Sherlocks eyes crinkling as he frowned.

"Why do we need rules?"'

"Because this is an experiment and as far as your experiments go rules are necessary."

"This is a study, not an experiment." Sherlock clarified.

"Same difference."

"It's really not."

"It doesn't matter, we need rules." John stated, only now finding it challenging to maintain eye contact with Sherlock as he felt as if his penetrating stare was actually burning holes in his eyes. Sherlock said nothing as he waited for John to state the terms of their 'study' but the doctor was finding it hard to focus as usually he could look away and think, but now he couldn't and sherlocks eyes currently took up 70% of his thoughts.

"Am I allowed to distract you?" John asked, really wishing he could look away but not understanding why.

"You want to try and distract me." Sherlock asked, his tone clearly indicating that he didn't think that was possible.

"You're still human, so is that a yes?"

"Yes." He replied, his eyes sparkling despite there being no natural light in the flat.

"Okay, I know you're too stubborn to lose at anything so if this goes on for longer than necessary can we have a tea break?" John questioned, hoping he could have at least 1 minute to compose himself.

"If you manage to make tea without breaking eye contact then yes, otherwise no." Sherlock said, his competitive side showing.

"Right... What if I need the loo?"

"Then you either lose or I'm coming with you." Sherlock said, smiling as john frowned in fake annoyance.

"That's something I don't think I'm quite ready to experience." 

"I have a rule for you." Sherlock said, thankfully moving the conversation away from him watching John go to the toilet. John raised his eyebrows in question, curious to know what Sherlock could possibly put a rule on.

"When you lose you have to do whatever I ask you to."

"What if I win?" John asked, amused by how sure of himself Sherlock was.

"Improbable, but the same rule applies reversed." John accepted this and nodded slightly, his attention focusing solely back on sherlocks eyes. When you focused on something for too long it became something else entirely, and since they had first made eye contact it was like they were seeing each other in a new light. Johns neck was aching slightly from looking down but he didn't notice, he only saw Sherlock and Sherlock only.

His hands were resting awkwardly besides him so he decided that if he was allowed to distract Sherlock he may as well use it to his advantage. He shifted slightly so that his hand was resting on sherlocks arm and began to paint little circles with the tips of his fingers; as he was unable to look away from the blue eyes he noticed the little flicker of surprise that appeared there.

"Are you ticklish?" John asked, hoping the answer was yes so he could use it to his advantage. Sherlocks eyes narrowed and that was all the answer he needed. John wasn't going to be unfair, now that the immediate shock of having Sherlock watching him had worn off he was actually quite enjoying the peacefulness of the situation, but it didn't mean he wouldn't use it to his advantage.

"Don't even think about it." Sherlock said quietly, shuffling slightly as if the very thought of being tickled made him uncomfortable.

"You said I could distract you." John replied, moving his hand off sherlocks arm and lightly brushing his fingers against his stomach. Sherlock breathed in and a little sound escaped his mouth, making John smile.

"But that's not fair, it's an inescapable human reaction to respond to being- ah- tickled." Sherlocks voice went higher as John tickled him again. He narrowed his eyes at him in warning, but John was finding his newfound power way too much fun. It was kind of hard to tickle someone when you couldn't see your hand but the risk of him missing was worth it.

"Who could've thought the man who studies murders for fun is ticklish." John said, poking Sherlock in the rib for emphasis. This time he did actually squeal and jonn grinned in amusement. Sherlock clearly wasn't amused and grabbed johns hand, securing it between both of his and resting it on his stomach instead.

"Who could've thought you enjoyed watching other people suffer." Sherlock replied, glaring up at him with a pout. Sherlocks hands were warm around johns and he decided there and then he would tickle him again if it meant seeing a pouting yet affectionate Sherlock.

"You're cheating."

"There's no rule stating I can't stop you."

"Is it too late to make that rule?"

"Yup." Sherlock replied, popping the P. John shook his head slightly and went back to simply staring at Sherlock, savoring the peaceful bubble that had encaptured them and hid them from the outside world. When it was just the two of them alone they were like different people, laughing and joking and accidentally touching and apparently having intense staring competitions. Around others they kept to themselves more, exchanging words as friends and acting just like everyone expected a self-proclaimed sociopath and his army Doctor coworker to act. But away from prying eyes they were just Sherlock and John, away from the expectations of society they were truly themselves.

John loved the private time they shared together because it was when Sherlock was the most humane. In front of people who judged him and spoke about him when they knew he could hear he was cold and unfeeling, simply stating what needed to be said and most of the time more than was usually allowed. He never let anyone pass his walls if he could help it, not even his own brother was yet to manage to draw out the real Sherlock. But John had. John had watched him dance around the kitchen and John had sat with him when he cried and John had played cluedo and eye spy and operation and whatever little game Sherlock came up with that day. He knew how he liked his coffee and how to tell when he was upset or when he needed a distraction. He understood when he needed his own space or when he just needed someone to be in the room with him. He could tell when Sherlock needed to just stop and rest or when he needed a case to mentally keep him going. He knew all the things no one else noticed or were allowed to see and he was flattered whenever he really thought about the fact that Sherlock had allowed him to see the side of him no one else had.

"You're staring at me." Sherlock stated, and John was snapped back to the present.

"That is the point of the study."

"But you were really staring at me, lost in thought but still grounded in reality enough to connect what you're seeing with your subconscious." Sherlock said, his voice still deep and intimidating but much softer than it was when he deduced others.

"What are you thinking about?" The brunette asked.

"You." John replied, his stomach fluttering oddly at the smile that stretched across sherlocks face.

"And what about me?"

"I don't know, just you in general." John replied, not knowing how to articulate his thoughts. Sherlock gave him the look that said he needed to elaborate if he wanted a serious answer.

"You're different right now, with me I mean, you're like a new person. I just find the thought comforting. I don't know how I'd survive if you spoke to me the way you do with Anderson or Donavon all the time, I think I might either punch you or run away." John said, struggling through his words and still not really understanding what his point was. 

"You're nothing like those two, they deserve every foul word they receive."

"I know that, I'm just glad I moved in and got to know you, the real you. The one who's ticklish and idiotic and brilliant, even though you think putting thumbs in our fridge is a good idea." John said, watching Sherlocks eyes crease in the corners as he smiled.

"Thank you John." Sherlock said, understanding what John was trying to say even though said man didn't really understand himself.

"Anytime." John replied, absentmindedly brushing one of Sherlocks curls away from his face. It was soft and nice to smooth between his fingertips, so he left his hand in his ebony hair and twirled the strand round his fingers, unaware of the effect it had on the detective.

"Have I ever told you you've got nice eyes?" John thought out loud something he would never normally say, but in their little bubble it was okay.

"Not that I can recall."

"Well I am now. They're very calming, when you aren't glaring at me, and just a nice colour, not that I can really tell which one most of the time." John mused, paying attention to the little specks of green hidden in the depths of blue.

"I have a condition called sectoral heterochromia, meaning my eyes change colour depending on the light." Sherlock explained, watching for a flicker of surprise in Johns eyes but not seeing any.

"I know, I kind of googled it when I couldn't figure out what colour they were." John admitted, grinning sheepishly.

"What colour are they now?" Sherlock asked, a hint of something unknown in his eyes.

"Light blue and a little dark blue... but with bits of green in the middle and gold in one. Basically just every eye colour mixed together." John described, feeling slightly embarrassed but not knowing why.

"I find them quite fustrating to be perfectly honest." Sherlock stated, tingles going across his neck as John brushed against it with his fingertips.

"Whys that?"

"Can you even imagine what it was like learning French at school? The teacher would ask for my eye color and I'd shrug and ask them the same question." Sherlock replied, grinning as John laughed. Neither knew how much time had now passed as Sherlock had been distracted by the tickling and lost count, but by this point they'd forgotten they were playing anyway.

"What other languages can you speak?" John asked, having heard his friend speak multiple tongues on many occasions.

"German, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, Russian, Swedish, Korean, Turkish, Dutch and a little Japanese and Chinese, though I'm yet to try and write in it." Sherlock listed off, as if it wasn't a big deal. Meanwhile johns draw had literally dropped, and there he was before thinking his fluency in German was impressive.

"Seriously? I don't understand how you can possibly remember all of it."

"My mother once took me to be tested for autism and the results were rather alarming, but it did explain how my mind palace technique works so well. Apparently my case of autism means I'm good at remembering languages and numbers, however if I don't actually want to learn it I may as well have never heard it in the first place." Sherlock explained, looking slightly uncomfortable. John caught on soon enough.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of Sherlock, we're all on the autistic spectrum and it's not something you can help, it's just who you are." John said, smiling warmly. Sherlock sized him up for a brief moment before sighing with a smile.

"I thought teaching you to deduce people would benefit my sanity, but it seems I was wrong."

"I'm only good at deducing you, you're easy to read."

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are." John stated.

"So are you."

"You know me well."

"You know me well."

"I'm not the worlds only consulting detective." John said smugly, knowing he'd won. Sherlock rolled his eyes but squeezed his hand and John smiled, his heart fluttering. He couldn't explain why he was having such odd reactions to Sherlock today and he didn't want to explain it either, instead ignoring it or simply just letting it be.

Then John realised something. Sherlock had rolled his eyes. He had looked away. John grinned and Sherlock looked at him in guarded confusion, but then realisation dawned on his face.

"That doesn't count." Sherlock said quickly, his eyes widening at the idea of losing over something so tiny.

"You looked away and the rules are whoever looks away first loses." John replied, maintaining eye contact with Sherlock just in case he somehow manipulated the rules.

"I rolled my eyes John, technically I could still see your eyes." Sherlock argued.

"But you still looked away Sherlock, so I win." John said happily, and when he didn't receive a reply from the sulking man on his lap he finally disconnected their eye contact and rest his head on the back of the sofa, chuckling at Sherlocks expression and closing his eyes.

"That wasn't fair, you can't just exasperate me into losing." The younger man mumbled, releasing one of his hands from johns to poke him in annoyance.

"And you can't just make up new rules cause you're a sore loser."

"I'm not a sore loser, I just don't condemn foul play."

"The only thing you do condemn is you winning, how long has it been?" John asked, opening his eyes to peer around the room for a clock he knew wasn't there.

"I don't know. I lost count when you decided to attack me." Sherlock said grumpily yet still playing with John's fingers, lightly brushing his fingertips down them.

"Do you mean we did that for nothing." John asked, lifting his head to peer briefly at Sherlock.

"No, the study was about maintaining eye contact, the amount of time is just a detail."

"Did we pass?" John asked jokingly, but if he'd of been looking at Sherlocks eyes that moment he would have caught a flash of sadness gloss over them.

"No need, I'm certain you were irreversibly in love with me to begin with." Sherlock joked back somewhat reluctantly.

"You're very confident."

"I am the worlds only consulting detective after all."

"Well in that case." John said, and without hesitation lent down and pecked Sherlock on the nose. He had finally come to the conclusion that perhaps doing these kind of things with his best friend wasn't that bad after all, as long as it made them both happy who cares where it led them. Sherlock looked up at him shocked, but then a smile appeared on his face.

"That was a good prize for losing I suppose." John smiled and hummed softly.

"Speaking of prizes, I still have to collect my prize for winning." John remembered, twirling one of Sherlocks curls around his finger.

"What do you want?" Sherlock asked, subconsciously moving his head closer to John's hand.

"I don't know, we'll have to wait and see." John replied, grinning when Sherlock looked slightly wary.

"I swear if you make me do something horridly domestic like buy milk for a month I will-"

"Shoot the wall again yes I know." John cut him off.

"But don't worry, it won't be anything horridly domestic as you so nicely put it."

"Be warned, I know where your gun is." Sherlock threatened, before lifting John's hand up and studying it curiously.

"Where did you get this scar?" He asked, tracing along a long but thin white line on the palm of his hand. John frowned for a moment before realisation swept over his face.

"When I was working in the tents on the front line a soldier came in with half his leg missing, and we had to stop him from bleeding out so we could seal the wound. I was in such a rush I sliced my hand open with the scissors I was using to cut his trousers back." John explained, leaving Sherlock at a loss for words. Of course he understood John was an army doctor and therefore would have seen traumatic circumstances on the battlefield, but he still couldn't imagine having to tend to someone with half of his leg missing and still remain sane.

"You amaze me." Sherlock replied, not knowing any better words to express how he felt for John Watson.

"Really? I thought I was too ordinary for you." John said, smiling softly.

"At times you may be a bit slow, but the fact that you can still carry on after all you've seen and all you've done is truly amazing. That doesn't make you ordinary at all; I'm not quite sure how you do it." Sherlock murdered, tracing the scar as if it were a map to all of John's past he was yet to know about.

"Sometimes I don't carry on. Sometimes I just want the nightmares to end and the pain in my shoulder to stop reminding me of what I've done. When I had only just returned my gun was my only friend, I used to sit with it in my hands for hours every night wishing I had the strength to pull the trigger. But now I just keep getting up because I know what I have to lose." John explained, looking only slightly sad but mainly just lost in memories of his old self.

"I will forever be thankful that you weren't strong enough. Your life is not your own, keep your hands off it."

"It's alright, I'm pretty sure you've got my hands right now anyway." John said, lightening the mood of the room slightly. Sherlock clasped John's hand tightly to emphasise the fact that he wouldn't let go, not unless he was sure it was the right thing to do.

"I like holding your hands." Sherlock said randomly, surprising John ever so slightly.

"Perhaps I'll let you hold them more often then." John replied, entwining their fingers together to show he didn't mind either. Nothing mattered anymore, not social standards or his parents or his sister or his reputation or even his own beliefs. It was just Sherlock, who had jumped into his life and taken it over from the moment he winked from that doorway, enticing him into the world beyond 222B Baker Street. 

(2 months later)

"Hey Sherlock?" John called from the kitchen whilst stirring the milk into his tea and absentmindedly tapping his foot.

"Hmm?" Sherlock replied, walking into the room and leaning on the counter behind him. John took a deep, steadying breath and turned around, making quick eye contact with the man in front of him, and before he chickened out quickly leaned in and pressed their lips together. Sherlock made a little noise in surprise before slowly kissing him back, his lips hesitant but soft against John's. When they pulled apart John grinned victoriously, pecking Sherlock on the nose before turning back to his tea.

"Erm, John?" Said Sherlock quietly from behind him, not having moved an inch from his position.

"Yeah?" John replied, smiling at how cute Sherlock sounded when he was in a situation he didn't quite understand.

"What was that for?"

"Oh you know, just collecting my staring contest prize." John answered cheerily, turning around and taking a sip of his tea.

"It worked." Sherlock replied, confusing John momentarily.

"The study, it worked. I'm almost 100% sure I'm in love with you after that." Sherlock admitted softly, smiling at the look of adoration on John's face. John placed his mug on the side and stepped forward, putting his hands on the counter each side of Sherlock.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He whispered, as if this were a genuine secret he was about to exploit. Sherlock nodded and lent in slightly, placing one of his hands on top of John's.

"I think I'm in love with you too." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: this is the longest one yet at 5666 words, but it was worth it for the cute johnlock. If you'd like it would make my life 221 times brighter if you left a comment, and if you have any idea you can comment them too :)
> 
> (Btw this isn't edited so sorry for any mistakes)
> 
> See you in the next one my pals


	4. City of Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John take a random trip to the cinema, and Sherlock seems to enjoy it more than he let on.
> 
> WARNINGS: Few spoilers for La La Land but otherwise just a fluffy fic

There were no urgent cases that had to be solved and no experiments Sherlock could come up with that would amuse him, so John suggested they go and watch a film at the cinema. 

It was a simple thing really, but Sherlock had blown it out of proportion and set about figuring out the best single seat in the entire cinema and how much they'd be allowed to drink so they didn't have to leave half way through. He wanted to pick a cinema that was near to Scotland Yard so if a case appeared they could leave quickly, but he also wanted a cinema far enough away that they wouldn't hear police cars every 5 minutes. John just sat watching him, feeling half annoyed and half amused by his boyfriends odd behavior. It was 7:00pm by the time Sherlock was done fussing they had already missed the showing of fantastic beasts, a film John had been dying to see since it came out, and collateral beauty, which had been recommended by Molly as it made her cry. But no, they'd missed both viewings.

John huffed as they walked into the overpriced London cinema, looking at the list of films appearing on a the blue screen and trying to pick a replacement. One caught his eye as it was displayed on a giant poster within the cinema, obviously being a popular choice right now. 

"La la land." John stated, knowing Sherlock could hear him. He looked over to see the detectives face screwed up in disgust, giving him a glare that spoke are-you-kidding-me. John smiled and took Sherlocks hand, dragging him over to the giant poster situated on the wall.

"Look, it's meant to be a romance, and we haven't been on a proper date in ages." John said, trying to convince Sherlock to let him see it. The film looked wonderful and had 5 star ratings all round, even Sherlock could appreciate that.

"I wasn't aware that this was a date otherwise I would have booked something in advance." Sherlock stated.

"Okay, will you go on a date with me?" John asked.

"What if I say no?" Sherlock quipped, squeezing johns hand.

"Then I'll go and watch it by myself and you can stay out here bored." 

"But it's a musical John. With dancing and singing and unrealistic plot devices." Sherlock argued, pouting softly. 

"You like music, you play the violin." John reasoned.

"That's a perfectly sound observation there but I listen to classical pieces made by musical geniuses, not cheesy songs written by overpaid industries." 

"Please bear, it's almost Valentine's Day and I would love nothing more than to watch a film with my wonderful boyfriend." John replied, stepping closer to Sherlock to nudge him slightly. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him, catching onto his trick.

"Are you seriously trying to guilt trip me into watching a film with you?"   
"Is it working?" John asked hopefully.

"I'll go and buy the tickets." Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes, but he was smiling down at John too. The older man gave him a peck on the cheek in thanks and went to buy some popcorn for them to share, (or for him to eat and Sherlock to refuse, but either way worked.) 

"Premium seats just because I love nothing more than to treat my wonderful boyfriend." Sherlock suddenly said behind him, sarcastically quoting his words from earlier. John jumped and almost launched the popcorn at the girl behind the till, but managed to keep himself composed. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump." Sherlock apologised, smiling in amusement despite his words. 

"Thank you love, let me just pay for this and we'll go sit down." John shook his head smiling and passed the money over to the girl, who had been listening to their short exchange.

"I'm sorry if it's not my place to say but you two are such a cute couple." She said awkwardly, smiling at them both as she counted out the change.

"Thank you, we're very happy together." John replied with a smile before Sherlock could say something rude. The girl smiled widely and handed over their change, wishing them a good day as they walked away. 

"That was nice." John said absentmindedly, peering around at all the posters lining the hallway to see what future films they could watch. 

"She eves dropped on our conversation." 

"You're one to talk." John stated, remembering the exchange with Irene Adler. 

"That was one time." 

"I'm sure there have been more times I don't know about." 

"I thought we were meant to be a cute couple, not bickering teenagers." Sherlock commented, letting go of johns hand just to wrap his arm round his back. John rested his arm on sherlocks waist and led them inside the screen room. 

"I think we're a bit of both." He whispered as the adverts had already started and it felt disrespectful talking over them. Sherlock however didn't seem to care. 

"Lady's first." Sherlock said cheekily, motioning for John to shuffle down the row to his seat. On the way past he elbowed Sherlock in the ribs, grinning in satisfaction at the little oomf that left his mouth. 

"That wasn't very nice." Sherlock muttered, rubbing his side as he sat down.

"Neither are you." John teased, earning himself a scowl. 

"But it's alright because I love you." John stated, grinning when he felt Sherlocks arm rest on his shoulder. 

"You're lucky I love you too otherwise we wouldn't be here right now." 

"Don't pretend you aren't excited." 

"I'm only looking forward to being able to cuddle with you for 2 hours, the film however not so much."

"I'll allow that answer just because it was cute." John replied, resting his head on Sherlocks shoulder. Just as he said that the film began to start and the cinema went quiet. 

During the film the main characters were seated inside a cinema watching an old movie together, staring into each other's eyes and slowly leaning in. John smiled as he thought about Sherlock, and had to urge to just sit up and kiss him too. Instead he turned his head and placed a kiss on Sherlocks jaw, seeing him smile out the corner of his eye. Sherlock pulled him closer despite the armrest separating their chairs, and John snuggled further into Sherlocks neck. He could feel Sherlocks breath gently blowing on his head, and wished for a moment the film would never end so they could stay like this forever. 

Unfortunately it did come to an end and by the time the title screen had appeared John had tears in his eyes, not having expected such a bitter sweet ending. As the lights came back on he untangled himself from Sherlocks arm and stretched, his bones creaking from having not moved for two hours. John glanced at Sherlock and grinned when he saw the look of utter betrayal on his face, as if the film had bypassed some universal law about happy endings. 

"What do you think?" John asked, quickly swiping at his eyes to clear away any unwanted moisture. 

"The storyline wasn't as horrendous as I thought it would be, however the ending was unjustified." He stated, making his reply sound like he was a genuine critic. 

"Whys that?" 

"It's a musical and musicals are meant to have happy endings, it just defied years of tradition in 5 minutes." 

"It wasn't that sad, they still achieved their dreams." 

"Then why were you crying?" Sherlock asked, obviously not missing John's teary eyes from a few moments ago. 

"I was just thinking about having to have this conversation with you and I got upset." John joked.

"I might start crying too then." Sherlock retaliated.

"Perhaps we should go home before that happens then, we don't want to damaging your ego in public." John said before they did start actually arguing, which had happened due to their casual banter many times before. It wasn't that they were annoyed at each other strictly speaking, they just both knew how to wind the other up and sometimes it went too far.   
John led the way out the cinema and put the empty popcorn box in the bin after having been pleasantly surprised when Sherlock ate some. They strolled out the cinema and hailed a taxi, their hands joined between them as they argued about whether the ending was movie history or a huge disappointment, (it wasn't hard to guess who's opinion was who's.) 

They arrived back at Baker Street having decided the film was amazing and even though the ending was surprising it was still brilliant, or at least that's what John had decided anyway.

When they got home Sherlock instantly walked into their bedroom and closed the door, stating without words he wanted some time to himself. John didn't mind, instead making himself a cup of tea and sitting with his laptop to look at the news. It was just full of boring politicians with their mixed opinions on Donald trump so John decided to just tweet instead, responding to some of his less invasive followers. 

After 15 minutes of defending himself he typed out a not too detailed tweet so his followers wouldn't question him too much, and pressed send when he decided it was okay. 

@contactJHW   
That moment when everyone's excited because it's Friday, but for you it's just a day between cases...  
#notcomplaining

Instantly there were people tweeting him back, but he decided not to reply to them for the moment. 

He clicked onto Sherlocks account and scrolled through his recent tweets, tutting at how unsubtle he was. They were yet to decide whether or not to tell their followers about their relationship status, however Sherlock was making his view on the matter more than clear. Once he grew bored of this task he stood up and knocked on their bedroom door to alert Sherlock he was coming in, before pushing the door open and taking in his boyfriends form sprawled across the bed. He smiled at the tussled brown hair and beige dressing gown twisted around his middle, loving how he made their king size bed look small with his longs limbs. 

Sherlock was surprisingly asleep, but then John remembered he hadn't actually slept for the last two days so he was probably mentally and physically exhausted from all his fumbling and deducing. John stripped off his clothes and climbed under the covers, trying his best not to wake his boyfriend who would be extremely grumpy if he did. It wasn't very late, only just gone 10 actually, so John just lay there appreciating the silence and the calm and the simplicity of laying with the man he loved, even though he didn't actually know he was there. 

Seconds, minutes, maybe hours passed, but eventually John Watson slowly fell asleep just as Sherlocks arms wrapped tightly around his middle. 

*

There was a soft melody echoing around the flat accompanied by the deep whispers of a voice, guiding the tune and transforming it into a beauty worthy of an orchestra. John could hear the violin bow sliding slowly across the strings, as if it's player was foreign to its rhythm yet determined to reach its end. He could almost feel the calloused hand cradling the instrument to his partners chin, and as if the music was luring him out his den he slipped out the bed and padded to the door. Cracking it open he spotted the shadowed figure with his front to the window.

A smile spread across John's face as he listened to Sherlocks voice carrying around the flat. He had never heard him sing before, he didn't even know he could, but his voice was more beautiful that he had ever imagined. It wasn't like what you'd hear on TV or on the radio, he couldn't reach high notes or bellow out famous musical numbers, however when he sang the melody was soothing, relaxing, calming. It held a thousand lullabies sang and a million cities visited, a hundred minds soothed and just John to hear its wonder.   
He recognised the lyrics floating on the tune as the love song from La La Land. 

He debated just standing there and listening to Sherlock sing all night, but if he was caught he might be considered a little strange for lurking in the doorway. So instead he walked out into the living room and made his presence known by sounding his footsteps on the wooden floor, noticing how Sherlocks back tensed and he immediately stopped singing and playing. There were a few tense seconds whilst Sherlock stood frozen, not knowing how to handle the situation he probably deemed embarrassing. He soon came back to himself and continued his violin playing, even when John wrapped his arms around Sherlocks waist and rest his head between his shoulder blades it continued to produce beautiful sounds. Eventually the piece came to an end and Sherlocks arms relaxed, his bow hanging limply beside him.

"Why did you stop singing?" John murmured. Sherlock moved his head to the side so that John could make out his features from the moonlight shining through the curtains. 

"I've never sung in front of anyone before." Sherlock replied quietly.

"Why?" John questioned.

"The opportunity has never arose until now." Sherlock answered, turning slightly in John's arms to meet his eyes. 

"Will you sing it again?" John asked, watching as Sherlock frowned slightly.

"I don't think so." 

"Why not?" 

"Like I said, I've never sung in front of others before. I am confident in many areas but unfortunately my voice isn't one of them." Sherlock admitted, smiling softly. 

"Sherlock, your voice is beautiful." John replied, smiling back up at him. He could've sworn Sherlock actually blushed at his words, however with the shadows lining his face and the scowl adorning it too he couldn't be sure. 

"I believe your opinion is biased." 

"Still true though." John replied, raising his hand and brushing his fingertips over Sherlocks frowning bottom lip. 

"The song you were singing, it's a duet isn't it?" John asked, recalling Mia and Sebastian sitting side by side at the piano; Sherlock hummed in reply.

"If I sing it with you, will you sing then?" 

"That makes no sense, why would your singing urge me to join in?"  
"Because I can't sing at all, so if I sing you'll sound 100 times better in comparison." John reasoned, and after a moments consideration Sherlock placed the violin back against his neck. 

"If you laugh I'll hit you." Sherlock threatened, before positioning the bow in place. John stepped back so he wouldn't receive a bow to the face, but also so he could see the sheet music with Sherlocks messy handwriting littering the lyrics under various notes. 

Sherlock began playing, and despite them having not agreed on who was singing which part John knew he'd have to start anyway. On his cue he took a deep breath and started the song. 

"City of stars, are you shining just for me?" John sang softly, looking up into Sherlocks eyes which seemed to sparkle in the light. 

"City of stars, there's so much that I can't see. Who knows? I felt it from the first embrace I shared with you..." John smiled at the memory of kissing Sherlock for the first time, underneath a staircase at Scotland Yard while Greg went to fetch some case files. 

"That now our dreams, they've finally come true." Sherlocks voice was soft but deep, and despite the fact that he was singing Mia's lines his voice still fit the role perfectly.

"City of stars, just one thing everybody wants. There in the bars, and through the smokescreen of the crowded restaurants." John smiled encouragingly, and Sherlock sang with a little more enthusiasm. 

"It's love, yes, all we're looking for is love from someone else" Sherlock sang, stepping towards John with a grin. 

"A rush" 

"A glance"

"A touch"

"A dance" John laughed softly, and this time they got to sing together. 

"A look in somebody's eyes, to light up the skies. To open the world and send it reeling," they sang, and despite the fact Sherlock was still playing John wrapped his arms around his boyfriends waist anyway, swaying them side to side. 

"A voice that says, I'll be here, and you'll be alright." 

"I don't care if I know, just where I will go, 'cause all that I need is this crazy feeling. A rat-tat-tat on my heart," 

"Think I want it to stay." John sang on his own, peering up at Sherlock and seeing the same love in his eyes that shone in his own. 

"City of stars, are you shining just for me? City of stars..." John finished his part, watching as Sherlock played the last note before singing to the silence. 

"You never shined so brightly." 

Silence hung in the air as the two men took each other in, caught up in the moment of serenity and peacefulness. Sherlock leant down slightly to place his violin on the table, before linking his hands around John's back. 

"I knew you liked the film." John teased softly, smiling as Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"The songs weren't as terrible as I thought they'd be."

"Shut up, you loved it." John said, pulling Sherlock closer so he could rest his head in the crook of his neck and wrap his arms around him tighter. Sherlock returned his hug and rest his head on top of John's, one of his hands moving to brush through the short hair on the back of his boyfriends neck. 

"Not as much as I love you." Sherlock whispered, making John smile.

"That was very smooth." 

"I know."


End file.
